


Problem Solver

by ExyEimi (Siyah_Kedi)



Series: Problem [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron and Neil bromance gives me life, Alternate Universe - No Exy, Dark Web, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Phone Calls, Wink wink nudge nudge, but i don't have a server so i used wix, just interactions SO FAR, mentions of abuse, more is definitely on the way, no real relationship yet, questionable business, so much for that web development degree, the website is now real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyah_Kedi/pseuds/ExyEimi
Summary: Problem Solving from Neil's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

There were fourteen computer screens scattered throughout the room. One of the largest, actually a flat screen television 96 inches across and only masquerading as a monitor, was attached to the server blades that supported the website. Another acted as the throughput for the phone system. An unlisted website would direct those in need of his services to an unlisted phone number, and he would either solve their problems himself or set them up with someone who could. His father's empire was strong enough to support this side hobby of his, and his father was happy that it kept him both useful and out from under foot.

 

He spent most of his time using the actual tv for video games and nearly didn't hear the phone going off in his ear. On his wheeled chair, he spun himself over the the “call center” side of the room.

 

Only the phone number appeared on screen, and he scowled at it. Not even unlisted numbers were free from his sniffing software, and he should have seen a name, address, brief background and other pertinent information displayed on the monitor. The nine digits on screen seemed to mock him.

 

Using his fake customer service voice, he finally answered the phone. “Thank you for choosing West Sky Aid, what can we fix for you?”

 

A husky voice greeted him. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

His first thought was: _Ah, someone misdialed the phone sex line again._ He decided to treat it like a genuine call anyway, just on the off chance that his father was listening in.

 

“No, sir or ma’am or neuter, we take our clients very seriously. What can we fix for you?”

 

Tall, dark, and grumpy snapped back at him. “You can start by getting me someone who's not a preteen.”

 

It was a reaction he got a lot, especially out in public. More than one well-meaning, do-gooder soccer mom had asked him if he was sure he shouldn't be in school, and if he'd lost his parents at any point during the day or needed help.  His answer was practiced and truthful. “I assure you that I am of legal age to be conducting business. Are you going to tell me yours?”

 

“Maybe if you didn't sound like a kid, you'd do better business.”

 

Grumpy-guts was a regular comedian. His sarcasm snapped to life. “Yeah, well, you sound like a chain-smoker. If you're lonely, the sex hotline is a three instead of a nine in the same number you've just called.”

 

“I'm not going to call a sex hotline for help. You say you specialize in solving the unsolvable. Well, I've got a problem.”

 

That much was clear, and he was beginning to find himself intrigued.  90% of his calls might be misdials to the sex hotline, but the other ten percent were typically extraordinary. “Yes, I can see that.” His patience was wearing thin with the evasions, however, so he prompted again. “Why don't you tell me what it is?”

 

There was no hesitation now, no hemming and hawing over why he wasn't _really_ a pedophile, that he didn't _usually_ get into a drunken rage and accidentally kill someone.  “I'm being framed for murder. I need the charges to disappear.”

 

Despite himself, he was almost disappointed. This was laughably easy.

 

“I see. Just the charges?” Surely there was some way to keep this interesting.  “You have some options here. We can take care of the judge, either financially or otherwise, or if you'd prefer, we can eliminate the one pressing charges against you.”

 

 “Just the charges will do,” came the easy answer, and then the twist: “The one doing the framing is my brother.”

 

Unsure of how to respond to that, he let out a noncommittal noise. The sound of a lighter flicking to life came over the headset as he pulled up the judicial interior website.  They’d gotten a new firewall, but it still wasn’t up against his skills at intrusion.  When he was ready, he prompted the caller for more information.  “Okay, I'll need your name.”

 

“Give me something first,” came the immediate answer. 

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I'm not giving my name out to strangers without something of equal or greater value.”

 

“You do realize that _you_ called _us_ with your problem, yes?”

 

He debated on what to give the strange man while the caller lit up another cigarette.  The names Chris, Jack, Stefan, Neil, and Ridley went through his mind.  He picked one at random, opened his mouth, and heard himself say, “My name is Nathaniel. Yours?”

 

“Andrew.”

 

_Andrew._   Somehow, it suited him.  Nathaniel wondered what he looked like.  But Andrew and a nice voice weren’t enough information to fix this particular problem of his.  He waited, but there was nothing else forthcoming.  “Andrew what?”

 

“If you want my last name, you need to give me something for it.”

 

Nathaniel sighed.  This man was going to fight for every syllable, apparently.  Again, fifteen different surnames went through his mind, and again, he answered truthfully. “Wesninski.”

 

There was almost a full minute of silence, and Nathaniel wondered what he was thinking.  Wesninski was unusual – foreign enough to be suspect for those that didn’t know; terrifying for those that did.  “Minyard.”

 

“Andrew Minyard.” He savored the way it sounded on his tongue as he typed it into the database.  “Ah, here you are. Accused of the murder of Drake Spear, I see. And Aaron is the one doing the framing? Did he do it?” He didn’t care, but couldn’t stop himself from asking.  Drake Spear had been on their radar for a long time; he’d started as a Wesninski soldier, but quickly got out of control.  His predilection for little kids didn’t do him any favors.  The dots connected suddenly and Nathaniel had to stop himself from asking if Andrew had been one of those children.  It would be simple enough to find out on his own without dredging up bad memories.  Andrew was in the system for more than just the murder of his former foster brother, however.  He’d been sent into juvie some years ago, and spent his entire life being shuffled from one foster home to another.  Nathaniel envied his freedom.

 

Andrew was speaking again, interrupting Nathaniel’s thoughts. “Give me something before I answer your question.”

 

Nathaniel was completely baffled by the request. “What do you want?”  What more could he give?

 

“Your worst memory.”

 

Andrew was having a bad influence on him and they’d only been talking for ten minutes.  He answered honestly. “All of my memories are terrible.  How about the time my father hit me with a hot iron?” As if speaking it aloud made it real all over again, the scar on his shoulder itched suddenly.

 

Andrew’s voice was deceptively casual, matching Nathaniel’s.  “Yeah, Drake mistook Aaron for me. Unfortunately, so did the cops.”

 

“No loss,” Nathaniel sent back, and then his mouth continued without input from his brain. “If Aaron hadn't done it, someone else would have. Spear was on our list.”

 

Andrew didn’t respond to it, and Nathaniel breathed a sigh of relief as he went through the computer files.  He changed a few things, added others, and then sent a message to the judge.  Cornwall was one of theirs, he wouldn’t question any of it. “Charges dropped, the arresting officer has been indicted for abusing his power, and the trial has been changed from a full criminal hearing to a civil process in which the judge will apologize for the trouble. Thanks for your business.”

 

Nathaniel hung up without waiting for a reply.  Jittery and not knowing why, he tapped out a cigarette from the nearby emergency pack, inhaling just enough smoke to get it lit before settling down and letting the smoke curl around him.  A moment later, a notification appeared on the screen that told him someone had searched his name online.  White hot panic shot through him.  He knew what would show up on the search – he’d cleaned it himself, leaving only a few things that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard he pressed.  There was nothing there to find.  Nothing online that would lead back to him.  Nothing that would suggest who or where he was.  He quickly opened up the notepad program, coded a brief website with a single sentence, and sent it live.  The metatags would ensure it would appear in the search.  He heard one of the servers engage as the website was accessed, and immediately took it down. The message was clear. [Don't look for me.](https://jorgensenfic.wixsite.com/donttrytofindme)

He was too dangerous for someone like Andrew. All his problems were gone now, thanks to Neil. It wasn’t until he was settling down to sleep that he realized he’d forgotten to ask for a payment for services rendered. No matter. This one would be on the house. 


	2. Chapter 2

On a whim, Nathaniel looked up Spears’ computer history. It was distressingly easy to get into; they hadn't focused on network security in the Marines, apparently. He could almost imagine that the bereaved mother had left her son's room exactly as it was, computer open and everything, because there wasn't even a password to begin remote operation of his desktop. Poking around, he expected to find emails or maybe a forbidden search history. What he didn't expect was a folder on the desktop itself titled, “My Toys”. A feeling of  forboding filled him as he opened it and saw names and dates.

 

The files reached back _years._ He opened one, watched thirty seconds before he realized what it was, and shut the video player off in abject disgust. Spear was dead, and he couldn't be killed twice.

 

The name AJ caught his attention. AJ had been Andrew’s nickname in the Spear household, according to the court documents he'd looked over. The dates on the files were as recent as two months ago.

 

The math wasn't adding up. Andrew had gotten out of the Spear household three years prior. He opened one of the recent files, and saw two blond teens, identical twins, glowering at each other across a table. The setting appeared to be a shopping mall. The one taking the shaky video - Drake Spear - was seated a few tables from them.

 

“Little AJ’s been holding out on me,” came the disembodied voice. “I knew they'd look terrific together.”

 

Another voice responded. “How are you gonna get them both?”

 

“Easy. I've got tapes. All I gotta do is tell AJ I'll post them online if he doesn't get his brother to come over for dinner sometime.”

 

The two men laughed, as if a joke had been told. Nathaniel swallowed rage. _He's dead, he's dead, he's already dead, there's nothing I can do._

 

Except … maybe there was. He copied all the files into his own computer, deleted them from Drake's, and packaged them onto a flash drive. He sent the drive, and a letter, to Judge Cornwall in California by overnight express.

 

He received an email the next day.

 

“Mr Wesninski,

 

I received your letter this morning and will be doing as you requested. Regarding Drake Spear, good riddance to bad rubbish. I have Cassidy Spear in custody now, and she identified the young man as Andrew Minyard, formerly Doe. If there's anything else I can ever do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.

 

Sincerely,

Judge Michael Cornwall

California Judiciary”

 

Nathaniel washed his hands repeatedly but couldn't get the feeling of being dirty off his skin.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, he was woken from a sound sleep by the phone ringing incessantly in his ear. He took a moment to collect himself and answered as cheerfully as he knew how.

 

“Thank you for choosing West Sky Aid, what can we fix for you?”

 

A familiar, smoke-husky voice came over the line. “You can start by telling me why and how you told the judge about Drake recording - himself.” He was the last one Nathaniel was expecting.

 

“Andrew?”

 

“No, it's Daenerys Targaryen, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.”

 

What the actual _fuck_ was that supposed to mean? “...What?”

 

Andrew was irritated about something. “Tell me what the fuck you did.”

 

“Anh-drew,” Nathaniel yawned halfway through the name. “I don't know what you mean.” He looked at the clock and sighed.  “Please call back at a better time.”

 

“It's only nine o'clock,” Andrew said.

 

“It's after one in the morning.” His tone conveyed complete disbelief that someone would call at such an ungodly hour of the morning, but he was berating himself for not putting the answering service up before he fell asleep.

 

“Just fucking tell me what the fuck you did and go back to sleep then, you baby.”

 

Nathaniel yawned again. “Took apart Drake's security, saw what he had on his computer, and sent a message with some of it to Cornwall with the message that his job was to keep it as quiet as possible.” Which raised a ton more questions. He went with the first one that came to mind. “How the fuck did you find out it was me?”

 

“Because you're the only one who knows.”

 

“Big deal,” Nathaniel said through another yawn. He didn't hear the click of the line being picked up, and he didn't understand what the issue was. “It's done now, so go be a good little cop and have a nice life.”

 

He hung up, and then jumped when his father stormed into the room. “You're talking to cops now?”

 

Nathaniel shook. “No, I don't know anything about it!”

 

Nathan bellowed. “You need to talk to cops, you come to me first, you understand?”

 

He crossed the room in two enormous steps and slapped Nathaniel across the face, sending him crashing to the floor. “Yes, sir,” Nathaniel said softly, knowing that if he said anything else it would just be worse.

 

“Shoulda taken you out when I killed your whore mother.” He spat over his shoulder and stomped from the room, his message delivered.

 

“Fuck,” Nathaniel whispered, and climbed back into the bed.

 

The next morning, Nathan was all smiles, looking pleased at the purple bruise that had blossomed on Nathaniel's face overnight. Nathaniel was instantly wary; Nathan never looked that happy over nothing.

 

“We have a new member of the crew,” Nathan said. “Aaron, why don't you come out and introduce yourself?”

 

On the far side of the breakfast room, a short blond man stepped through the door. “My name is Aaron Minyard. I'm here to be your first responder.”

 

Nathaniel choked.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron had been given a suite of rooms directly across the hall from Nathaniel, since he was there to be Nathaniel’s nurse - although no one had put it to him in quite those terms yet.  He was only a few years older, but he’d lived most of his life in California, on his own because his mother was a derelict parent. Combined with the fact that he was midway through a medical degree and had killed a man with no apparent remorse, Nathan had reached out to him with the job offer.  It was conditional, but he didn’t know that either - if, at the end of six months he’d done well, he might be allowed to leave, or he might be offered a more permanent position. If he didn’t please Nathan… well, he’d be leaving whether he wanted to or not, probably in a series of trash bags courtesy of Lola Malcolm.  

 

Nathaniel was getting used to having someone else in his wing of the house, but it made him nervous when he heard unfamiliar feet in the hallway, or a stranger’s voice closeby.  He was hearing it now, in fact 

 

“ - Unfortunately, my brother is a controlling bastard who won’t let me leave the state without him!”

 

Nathaniel’s ears perked up.  Andrew was the brother, he knew.  Was Andrew furious with Aaron for leaving?  Was Aaron also the victim of abuse? He was aware that Andrew had spent his formative years in foster care, and had been abused as a child and teenager; had the cycle of abuse continued so quickly?  Was he taking some inner rage out on his brother? Did Nathaniel need to separate the twins for Aaron’s safety? He’d helped Andrew, was looking out for him because of it, but Aaron was officially Wesninski property for the next six months.  He was officially  _ loud _ property.  Nathaniel could hear him clearly through the walls. 

 

“How the fuck do you do that? Can you read minds? Been steaming my mail open before I get to it?” 

 

Nathaniel couldn’t hear Andrew’s response, but Aaron’s voice became quiet again for a moment before rising again in anger.  Nathaniel flinched to hear it. 

 

“I figured that'd be enough time to save up enough money to pay off my student loans!”

 

He had to do something before Aaron got himself into trouble on his first day.  Not willing to get near Aaron personally when he was so angry, Nathaniel did the next thing he could think of, which was call Andrew.  Andrew picked up after one ring. “Hello?”

 

“Tell your brother to keep his voice down,” Nathaniel whispered urgently.  

 

“What -?”

 

He didn’t let him finish, hanging up abruptly and hating himself for getting so involved with one of his clients.  If his father found out how much Andrew intrigued him, he’d - 

 

Nathaniel didn’t want to contemplate what he’d do, actually.  Something horrific. The intercom rang with the lunch bell, and Nathaniel met Aaron in the hallway.  There was no trace of his anger on impassive features, but Nathaniel had had enough experience with his father in these moods to know that just because it wasn’t on display didn’t mean it wasn’t there.  He huddled close to the wall without trying to seem like he was cowering. Aaron was  _ shorter _ than he was.  It was ridiculous to be so afraid.  

 

“You’ve been talking to my brother,” Aaron said, almost conversationally.  Nathaniel braced himself for the strike he was sure would follow. When nothing happened, he peeked at Aaron out of the corner of his eye.  “You cleared his charges for him,” Aaron added. There was no question, no demand, and Nathaniel didn’t know how to respond. Was Aaron angry at him?  Pleased? He needed to learn his new nursemaid’s moods soon, or he’d drive himself insane. 

 

* * *

 

Several days passed uneventfully. Aaron made no threatening moves towards him, but also didn’t expend any effort to try to befriend him.  Nathaniel circled him warily, forced to spend time with him because Nathan wanted him to learn from Aaron and the alternatives were worse.  Aaron remained an impenetrable wall, and Nathaniel found himself wishing more than once that it was Andrew who’d moved in, because at least he could talk to Andrew.  

 

As if thinking about him had summoned demons, the intercom clicked to life and Nathan’s voice rumbled through the speakers.  “Nathaniel, come down to my office. I’d like to speak to you about something.” 

 

Nathaniel debated on whether to let Aaron know his services would be needed soon, and then decided discretion was the better part of valor.  Aaron knew too much about the family as it was, and it wouldn’t do to keep his father waiting when he’d been summoned. Nathaniel hurried downstairs, feeling like a scared mouse and hating it.  

 

Nathan had security feeds from Baltimore-Washington pulled up on his computer when Nathaniel crept through the double French doors.  “Good, I have a question for you.” 

 

“Yes, sir?” 

 

“Why in the world does it look like Aaron is wandering around the airport right now?” 

 

Nathaniel’s mouth went dry.  He peered at the screen. Short, stocky, blond - it could have been Aaron, except for the fact that Aaron was upstairs in his room, doing his own thing.  “Aaron has a brother,” Nathaniel whispered. 

 

It only took Nathan a moment to put the pieces together.  “A twin,” he said. “The one who nearly took the fall for Aaron taking out the trash.”  He looked thoughtful, which was never a good sign. “Thank you, Nathaniel,” he said dismissively, and Nathaniel fled, gratified to have gotten away without any new wounds.  

 

He locked himself in his room and texted Andrew before he could reconsider it. 

 

_ ::Have you lost your mind?  You obviously know who my family is, what the hell made COMING HERE a good idea?:: _

 

He couldn’t help but think of Aaron’s offhand comment about ‘my brother is a controlling bastard.’  It was because of Aaron that Andrew was here, on Nathan’s radar. He liked matched sets. The Malcolm siblings were proof of that.  If Nathan got his hands on Andrew… 

 

Andrew responded quickly. :: _ Eyes in the sky, little bird?:: _

 

Nathaniel was panicking.   _ ::Eyes everywhere. The walls have ears. Don't call anyone, don't tell anyone where you're going or why you're here.:: _  If he could keep Andrew’s visit quiet, if Andrew didn’t tell anyone he was looking for Nathan Wesninski, if Andrew just checked on his brother and left, if, if, if...

 

He had to know, and sent another message.   _ ::Why ARE you here?:: _

 

Andrew’s reply was predictably snarky.   _ ::Didn't you just tell me not to tell anyone?:: _

 

Nathaniel rolled his eyes at his phone.   _ Look you jackass, if you don’t tell me why you’re here, I can’t protect you from my father. _

What he said instead was,  _ ::Fine. When you end up in pieces scattered around different dumpsters, don't say I didn't warn you.:: _

 

_ ::Tell me something first.:: _

 

Of  _ course _ Andrew wanted to trade for the information.   _ Of course _ he couldn’t just answer the question because Nathaniel was thirty feet from his brother and would probably be the one called on to make him a corpse if Andrew stepped out of line.   _ ::Of course.:: _

 

Andrew sent an odd, little picture of a yellow face, and Nathaniel was officially confused.  It seemed to be the only thing forthcoming, so Nathaniel took the plunge. 

 

_ ::What do you want to know now?:: _

 

_ ::Are you watching me specifically or just the airport?:: _

 

He didn’t know what to say.  He’d done it to himself. If he told Aaron, would he get into trouble?  Would Aaron get into trouble with his controlling, possibly-abusive brother?  If he hadn’t said anything to Andrew, he wouldn’t know that they knew. But he was Aaron’s brother, and he’d nearly gone to jail for a murder he didn’t commit for Aaron’s sake.  Nathaniel couldn’t let him wander unguarded and unaided around Baltimore, asking questions that would get him quietly knifed before he’d been here a day. He  _ had _ been watching Andrew - just not closely enough. A knock on his door nearly stopped his heart.  Warily, Nathaniel opened it enough to see who was on the other side, but didn’t relax when he saw Aaron.  “Mr. Wesninski told me my brother just showed up in Baltimore.” 

 

Nathaniel gaped at him.  “Is he abusive towards you?” he blurted out.  Aaron’s face twisted with confusion and then aggravation.  

 

“No,” he said, and stalked towards his own door without another word.  Nathaniel leaned against his door, pushing it closed, and sank down to the floor, clutching his phone in one hand.  Belatedly, he realized Andrew was still waiting for an answer. Bizarrely, he kept it honest.

 

_ ::Both. My father keeps an eye on who comes and goes.:: _

 

_ ::You, specifically,::  _ Andrew said.  

 

Nathaniel was having a mental breakdown.  :: _ Yes, I was watching you, specifically.:: _

 

_ ::Why?:: _

 

_ Why _ did it matter?  Andrew was free in ways Nathaniel had never been in his  _ life. _  He could simply drop everything in California to come fly out to Baltimore to check on his brother on a whim; he could leave again soon if he didn’t draw too much attention to himself.   _ ::You're interesting.:: _

 

_ ::WHY?:: _

 

Nathaniel couldn’t tell him.  He flung the phone across the room and buried his face in his arms.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ ::Why the fuck is your father loaning my brother a car?::  _

 

Nathaniel jerked, startled when his phone buzzed in his hand. He'd had Andrew's texts open, and was trying to think of a way to tell him to get the hell out of Dodge when the message came in. Because Andrew was the only one who texted him, he knew immediately who it was from, but the comments of the message, when he focused, made his heart leap up into his throat. He tapped the screen quickly, shaking so badly he nearly couldn't type.

 

_ ::He what? Why?:: _

 

Andrew's reply was swift and predictable. 

 

_ ::Info for info, birdy.:: _

 

Nathaniel was so annoyed, he almost forgot to be scared for a moment.  _  ::What now?:: _

 

There was, oddly, no hesitation.  _ ::Your best memory.::  _ He wondered how long Andrew had been waiting to ask for it. He wondered what constituted his  _ best _ memory. To stall for time, he needled Andrew.

 

_ ::Seems a little steep.::  _

 

_ ::Your choice.::  _

 

He could almost hear the smoke-rough voice giving him the option to put his phone down and accept that he wouldn't get an answer. It occurred to him that how best memories had happened in the last three weeks. Meeting Aaron for the first time and seeing no judgement on his face. Listening to Andrew barter for information. The knowledge that Andrew wasn't abusing the fragile, inexplicable trust Nathaniel had given him. The fact that Aaron knew he was a walking victim and hadn't taken advantage of him. 

 

It occurred to him that all his best memories somehow included the twins. Unwilling to give that information away just for finding out what Andrew's plans were, he lied for the first time.    _ ::Getting my first PlayStation for Christmas. Now why is Aaron leaving?:: _

 

_ :: We're going out to dinner since I'm in town.:: _

 

Instantly, all Nathaniel could think of was the myriad ways that could go wrong.  _ ::Keep your mouth shut. Both your mouths.:: _ He could think of half a dozen reasons for Nathan to loan Aaron a car. Either he'd tampered with it to cause an accident, or more likely, it was bugged. Trackers, video and audio surveillance, maybe a remote kill switch that would strand him out in the middle of nowhere or cause the brakes to fail if he needed to get rid of him… 

 

_ Altruistic _ wasn't a word in Nathan's vocabulary. If he'd loaned Aaron a car for the evening free of charge, there was a reason. 

 

Another, less dangerous but more viable option occurred to him.  _ He's trying to buy Aaron's loyalty. _ He couldn't think why Nathan would try so hard for a medical student he'd hired for his knowledge and ruthlessness. He wasn't nearly brave enough to go and ask. 

 

* * *

 

 

Unexpectedly, the answer came the next morning. Nathaniel was called into Nathan's office, where he found both Lola and Aaron waiting for him. Giving them both a wide berth without seeming to, Nathaniel waited in silence. 

 

Nathan didn't keep him in suspense for long. “I've decided to give you a more active role in the business,” he said without preamble. Nathaniel's eyes flicked to Aaron. “Yes,” Nathan said, intercepting the look. Aaron glanced between them, puzzlement written on his near impassive face. They both ignored him. “Once Andrew completes his classes, he will be receiving an invitation from the Baltimore police department to attend the academy here instead of in Oakland.”

 

Nathaniel's brain whirled.  _ Matched set _ , he thought. Lola simpered as though she were reading his mind _. Active… he can't mean… _

 

Nathan wanted Andrew on his payroll. Wanted Andrew within reach. Nathaniel still hadn't determined whether or not Aaron's reticence was due to his brother, but instinct screamed at him not to let anyone else get close enough to be a victim. Either Andrew would suffer under Nathan, or Aaron would suffer under Andrew, and neither option was acceptable.

 

His mouth opened before it checked with his brain. “No,” he said, and then stuffed his hands over his mouth as if that would make the word go back behind his teeth and be unsaid. 

 

It was too late. Nathan came around the desk and struck him, sending him careening into the wall. Lola laughed; Aaron looked horrified. “What did you just say?”

 

“Nothing, I'm sorry -” 

 

Nathan took him up by the throat and slammed his head into the wall, dangling him until his feet no longer touched the ground. “This isn't me asking  _ you _ for permission,” Nathan hissed angrily. “This is me telling you how things are going to be.” 

 

Dark spots danced in his vision. Nathan's fingers were leaving bruises against his windpipe. Over Nathan's shoulder, Nathaniel could see Aaron watching the drama unfold and wondered what he knew about Nathan's real work. Surely,  _ surely, _ Andrew had warned him. Surely he'd told Andrew to be wary of accepting any offers that came from Nathan's blood-stained hands. 

 

He didn't get the opportunity to consider anything further - the lack of oxygen to his brain overcame the adrenaline pounding through his veins and Aaron's white face was the last thing he saw before darkness overtook him. 


End file.
